Letters for personal catharsis

Beeps House Rules

No one’s talking to me. Like the entire world bugged out at the same time. Not unheard of nor even unexpected – after all, if the Universe is gonna ask me to bend over so it can fuck me up the ass, it’ll do so in private, not public. And I’m well aware that most or all of my friends are having difficult lives right now, too. Which is, of course, part of the reason I’m trying to continue to reach out. But it’s hard when you’ve got a couple of messages backed up with no replies. Like, how many times can I say hello or ask if everything’s okay? I’m feeling sucky here, too. Please don’t make me do this on my own.

I ain’t Ulla. Don’t know how many people she had contact with, but it sure seemed like a lot. And so many of us cared deeply because to us, she was always there with kind words or a wise crack that made us laugh. Seems I can’t do that. I can’t even hang onto three correspondents, no matter how hard I try.

People are off living their lives. Maybe that’s bugging me more than anything.

Finally have an email from the English speaking theater group here. Open rehearsals next week, please come meet the cast and everyone helping out. Just in the fucking knick of time. Had my correspondents fled with nothing to fill the gap…well, I’m still climbing out of Self-Hatesville, so something like that would not be good. Maybe. I say that every goddamn time I go somewhere: maybe. Maybe I’ll finally meet a friend. Someone I click with right away, someone everything is easy with, someone with whom I can laugh and cry and do nothing with and still have fun. It’s been about thirty years since I’ve had a friend like that IRL. I think I’m due.

Why is it so hard? So hard to have friends, so hard to be happy?

What’s wrong with me?

Early morning exercise has become my must have. So much so that I’m gonna join a gym here so on shit days I can still use the treadmill or a stationary bike. So much so I’ve been contemplating pushing a 5 a.m. wake up call up Thursdays and Fridays just to make sure I can sweat for an hour and clean up before lessons. Later afternoon exercise isn’t the same. My body is already tired just from existing. I can’t go as long or as strong as I can early in the day. Just…5 a.m. Ugh. With two days a week, that’s guaranteed to throw me into that schedule for the whole time, meaning I’m back to a 9:30 p.m. bedtime. Wow. What a party girl. Maybe since there’s no one to party with, I shouldn’t be worried about that. But then you KNOW what happens. I finally do meet people and my lifestyle comes into conflict with these budding relationships. So one or the other has to give, and then I’m topsy-turvy again. Just can’t win, can I?

Answer: no. I’m not enough of an asshole.

Schedule: finish this, walk, do the stairs, cool down. Language drills. Reading in Dutch, which is nowhere NEAR as satisfying as reading in English and yet so much more important to do. Dishes. Tidy up. Find a few other projects to keep me from only smoking throughout the entire day.

Gettin’ real sick of this schedule real fast.

The studio HAS to be turned on. That’s the only thing that’s going to swallow me up whole for the entire day and keep me busy. If my words aren’t reaching anyone, maybe sound alone will. Something has to break this stalemate. And honestly, it’ll be a relief to put on the headphones and crank sound until that’s all that’s in my head. No words, no memories, no ideas half formed; just sound and only sound. Finding the edge, tuning it, creeping it in and out from left to right, cutting it, sculpting it, changing it from one thing to another: in short, magic. With time and the right equipment I can make a hummingbird sound like a lion and vice versa.

So that’s it. Gonna keep on until something changes. I’ve got my duties to do – language to stop being such an idiot about, attempts to reach out no matter what the consequences, communicating at all times honestly, and doing my best to sit in that elusive chair called ‘happiness’.

My brain came wandering back my way, battered and looking the worse for wear (thanks for posting it back to me, Jess). I’m trying to make nice. Not just go off on it for being a whiny so-and-so. What the hell. We’re both feeling alone right now. And when the chips are down (or all your friends are), it’s all you got left. So like it or not, I’m stuck with it. My permanent roommate. Might as well TRY to be friends.

On that note, I’ll tell myself my brain has control today. If it/I feels overloaded by language, we back off. If it/I wants to watch tv, we watch tv. Whatever. You know the house rules up there. No passive-aggression. You want something, speak up and don’t be a bitch about it. No obsessing. You have a problem with something, we write it out or we talk to our brother. No crawling into our shell. We look up, we say hello, we smile. And no giving up. You need to say ‘stop’ and lay down the burden for a day, that’s okay. We can do that. But we’re not giving up, you got that? Abide by all of that, and we can work together.

Currently a final year English student at the University of Cambridge. Producing Intern for Fuel Theatre July-October 2016. Aspiring Arts Administrator/Theatre Producer, blogging about my projects (mostly).

#ActuallyAutistic - An Aspie obsessed with writing. This site is intend to inspire through sharing stories & experiences. The opinions of the writers are their own. I am just an Autistic woman - NOT a medical professional.